Its a strange thing, looking back and realising how much someones affection can come with conditions. My grandmother raised me. Im of course grateful to her, but its only now that I see her love wasnt quite as selfless as I once believed.
I was just five when my dear dad decided he didnt want a family anymore. He left us for another woman, one much younger than Mum. Since wed been living in his flat, he swiftly demanded Mum and I move out right after the divorce. I still remember the suitcase, my teddy bear, Mums trembling hands.
With nowhere else to go, Mum and I moved in with her mothermy Gran. Dad, being the coward he was, found every trick in the book to avoid paying child support. So there we were, penniless, living off Grans modest pension in a cramped flat in Birmingham. Mum was always working, off here and there on cleaning jobs, and it fell to me to come home from school and look after the house.
As I got older, it became tougher. Sometimes Id skip school to work on building sites, just so wed have a bit extra for food. Studying was out of the questionI wanted to help Mum and Gran, who could barely keep afloat on the little money we had. I even decided, rather resolutely, that Id leave school after my GCSEs and get a proper job.
Then Grans sister, Aunt Ruth, stepped in. She had no children of her own and was eager for company. She offered to take me in, promising better support for my studies. Both Mum and Gran agreed, hopeful that this would give me a shot at a different life.
So at fifteen, I moved in with Aunt Ruth in a tidy semi-detached in Oxford. Mum and Gran visited occasionally. Life improved dramaticallyI was able to focus on my studies for once, and Aunt Ruth, with her decent pension, even taught me how to cook a proper roast and hem my own trousers. Thanks to her, I finished school with top marks and went off to university to study law.
Aunt Ruth always said that as soon as I finished my degree, shed leave me her house in her will. Shed tell me she loved me like her own child and wanted to do what she could to help build my future.
Then, in my third year of uni, everything changed. I met Abigail. She was beautiful and brilliantly sharp. Love blossomed before I knew it. I was certain I wanted to marry her.
But when Aunt Ruth got wind of it, she threw an almighty fit. She declared that Abigail must be after my future fortune rather than my heart. She threatened to cut me out of her will entirely if I didnt end it with Abigail. I told Abby everythingher response was pure: if the house meant so much, we could part ways, but shed happily live with me in a bedsit if it came to that, she loved me that much.
After all the months of heartache and thinking, I chose love. Aunt Ruth stopped speaking to me. I lost any claim to her house. But I had Abigail, and that was enough.
Now, as we mark our tenth wedding anniversary, with two lovely children and a happiness that grows deeper each year, the loss feels small. Choosing lovechoosing Abbywas the best decision of my life.
